


Back in the seat

by sabre



Category: chevrolet - Fandom, racing - Fandom, subaru - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabre/pseuds/sabre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drake is an ex racer with years under his skin that tempted him to hold onto the modified Subaru he crashed in, being near fatal. Now he has a wife, a daughter, dog and a mortgage so when a teenager steals his V8 Chevrolet Camaro to race the streets in; Drake reawakens his past to get back his car but results in finding more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back in the seat

Drake sat at his kitchen table drumming his fingers and reading the newspaper that always gets delivered every day, he sipped some of his black coffee and flicked his eyes towards his breakfast sitting to his left, eggs, bacon and toast. It could have been seen as a very boring breakfast routine to do every day but that’s how Drake wanted it, how he always wanted it since he was young and struggled to get any breakfast at all. His father walked away from the family when he was born and his mother was usually too drunk to even find the kitchen let alone make him breakfast.   
The only person he could rely on was his older brother Michael, six years older than him and being the man of the house from such an incredibly young age took its toll on him. Michael grew up around some very bad groups of people, starting out with shop lifting, pick pocketing growing up into stealing cars, robbing stores and eventually drug trafficking. Michael couldn’t keep his fingers out of the goods though and two years ago he overdosed in his house, police didn’t discover his body for three days.  
So out of blood, Drake was the only person left out of the White family and he had gotten used to that. He chose his family now, he met his wife when he used to race for a living, Emma had spotted his car around two different race tracks on two separate dates just by mere coincidence. She always described it that she was watching the front of the pack of cars in a tight knit bundle when his car sped up from right at the very back and weaved its way through the mass and appeared in front like magic. His tuned car had twin turbos and a blow off valve that he personally set up so no one else’s car could make such a distinctive noise, that was how Emma spotted his car the second time. Once again she had been watching a different car when his caught her ear and drifted around a large bend and took the lead. She met him after the race and things just took off from there.  
They had been married for twenty years now, two houses gone through and six different race cars he made mistakes with, five cost him his cars and one nearly his life; that was when he promised Emma he would hang up the keys for good, for both his wife and his daughter. When he had his near death experience she was three years old, far too young to remember anything about the aftermath with her father being hospitalised with a broken leg, three busted ribs as well as multiple cuts and bruises.  
Enough was enough, now Drake lived his days driving a V8 Chevrolet Camaro, a mortgage for his and Emma’s home, a 3 year old golden retriever they adopted and Lauren their 17 year old daughter. No more races and no more danger, it was something he always secretly wanted since he was just a child. To finally have a family.  
“Morning sweetie.” Emma said from behind him and bent the corner of his newspaper down to see him. She was dressed in a sharp power suit for her job as CEO for a large business within the city.  
“Morning babe.” He replied and kissed her softly.  
“You’ve barely touched your breakfast.” Emma said, she collected her car keys to her Porsche 911 and pushed the plate of breakfast towards Drake. “I’ve got to go now but I’ll see you tonight at 6.” Drake put down his newspaper and stood up, he grabbed the keys to his personal car that hung on the key hook beside the kitchen door, and it kept all the keys to both of their cars in one safe place. Emma walked towards the front door, clutching a wad of papers and folders, Drake darted in front of her and opened the front door for her.  
“Thanks, so what are you going to do while I’m gone?” she remotely unlocked her Porsche which chirped and the door locks loudly undid themselves.  
“The Camaro needs a change of oil so that’s my duty today.” He glanced sideways and saw his yellow and black Chevrolet Camaro 2010 model sitting proudly gleaming in the driveway just in front of the garage door.  
“Ok well there’s spare oil in the garage behind the steel wheels.” She placed her papers on the passenger seat of her Porsche which sat just behind Drake’s Camaro. “Which you said you would throw away 2 weeks ago!” she reminded him and Drake quickly stared at the ground.  
“I know I did, I’m sorry…” he didn’t have a good excuse why he didn’t throw away wheels they never used.   
“Just do them before I get home.” Emma told him and opened the drivers side door to her Porsche.   
“But it’ll get the boot dirty of my Camaro.” Drake playfully whined, Emma bite the inside of her cheek.  
“Just…do it.” She sternly told him and got into her car.  
“Yes ma’am.” Drake saluted her and watched her drive off, her rear wheel drive Porsche wheel spun as she left. Drake tossed the keys to his Chevrolet in the air and caught them again, he wandered over to his Camaro and pressing the button on his key fob; the boot opened by itself. “Hey baby, who’s a good girl?” he ran his hands over the front of his car and kissed the classic Chevrolet emblem. It was pretty common of Drake to go mad over his cars, with him being an ex race car driver he knew how important it was to take care of them and they would take care of him. His Camaro though took care of his family which meant so much more to him.  
Drake stood up and picked out the garage key on his keyring, unlocking the garage he swung the large white metal door upwards and peered inside.  
It was a deep garage but only just wider than one car length, black metal shelving sat on the right containing many different fluids for Drakes Camaro on the top shelf, fluids for Emma’s Porsche on the second shelf and there were also more fluids for another car on the bottom but covered in dust and grime. A toolbox full of different spanners, ratchet sets, screwdrivers and drill bits, Drake had a tool for pretty much every job be it delicate valve replacement or hammering out a dent.  
A few feet further down the garage were four steel 14 inch wheels with rotting rubber and growing mould. Drake trudged towards them and grabbed some gloves from the shelving unit as he passed it, he began to pick up the wheels one at a time and taking them to the boot of his Camaro; being extremely careful not to make the boot any more dirty than it need to be.  
He did three wheels and went back in to grab the last one, he had tried to avoid looking at something somewhat hidden just behind the wheels, covered in an oily and filthy, rough dark brown cloth cover, scratched dull blue paint stuck out at the bottom as well as gold wheels at the sides peeking out.  
Drake’s other car. The same car he crashed during a race and nearly killed him but the same car with its iconic blow off valve that made Emma find his car on both occasions. She hated this car with a burning intensity and would often accidently drop an object on it as she passed it trying to get something, Drake didn’t like the thought of it but couldn’t imagine scraping it, and it won many races with ease, even had a tiny fan base on the internet about it be it partially because of the severe crash but from time to time Drake would flick to a bookmark on his laptop ‘where is it now?’ last post was years ago and he was always tempted when he visited it to post a picture of it in his garage just to say it was still around.  
He flicked the cover off the front of the car and as he always did, inspected the missing headlights, grill, front bumper and wires hanging off the engine still. It almost felt like an unfinished product that he never had the energy to finish, the impact of the crash had crippled the engine struts, ripped the A pillars back and destroyed the 2.5 litre boxer engine.   
Drake had spent months beating, welding and cutting metal to the chassis to fix the engine struts, he had fixed the A pillars back onto the body and salvaged a second hand 2.5 boxer engine to put back in the car, Emma had nearly divorced him when she found out he bought the exact same engine style as the one that had originally been in it, to her this meant Drake was racing again; he wanted to say he wouldn’t race this car again but…never been too sure. She threw things at him, screamed at him and left the house for a few days, Drake apologised profusely of course and stopped fixing the car instantly.  
Drake sat down on the tyre and looked up at his car, the last few pieces to finish off his car would only be the bumper, lights, grills and change spark plugs…something he could do within the time of Emma being at work and their daughter being at school.  
Unfortunately Drake wasn’t good at saying no to himself, it took Emma to tell him not to touch that car again but the temptation got to him now, he jumped to the toolbox and grabbed a few different size spanners and dragged over the bumper to begin reattaching it. Bolts, nuts and washers began filling holes, half an hour flew by and the front bumper was fitted, the honeycomb grill was next which snapped into place and its STI badge sat dauntingly in front of Drakes face, the hawkeye headlights fitted snuggly and the wires went in the back without a problem.  
Drake stood up and flicked the cover off the driver’s side door so he could unlock the bonnet, he never kept the car locked so the drivers door opened with rusty squeaks. Inside were 2 black racing bucket seats and a black racing steering wheel, the dashboard had been stripped out along with the carpet and back seats, it had been replaced with a carbon fibre dash and many dials showing: speed, revs, oil temp, boost PSI and others that Drake ignored. He knelt across the drivers seat and pulled the bonnet release tab to unlock the engine bay.  
Like he had done it a million times before, he swapped out the 4 old spark plugs and inserted 4 new ones from the shelving unit he had been saving for his Camaro if she needed them but were instead gathering dust. Drake dropped the bonnet and inspected his handiwork, he didn’t feel as pleased as he wanted to about it.  
“Fuck…” Drake sighed to himself, Emma would be furious to hear he had been working on that thing, he felt awful he had just betrayed her trust in him to not touch it. He looked back at his Camaro through the open garage door and even she seemed disappointed in him.   
He threw the cover back over his car and picked up the last steel wheel to put in the back of his Chevy, he dropped it in without caring for the car as he was distracting himself. The sound of a revving motorbike engine made him jump and slam the boot shut with force to make the rear suspension rock.  
He turned around quickly to see his best friend Adam rock up on his black Honda sports bike. His black visor meant you couldn’t see his face and all the rest of his bike armour being the same kind of black deemed him looking very daunting but really he was a softie.  
“Hey knob head.” Drake greeted his oldest friend with their usual banter of insults.  
“Hey minivan.” Adam replied and took off his helmet, tucking it under his arm.  
“I happen to like my suburban lifestyle.” Drake smirked and shut the garage door and locked it behind him. “When was the last time you were here?”  
“Oh, must have been months ago.” Adam replied.  
“Milk with two sugars in your tea?” Drake asked him.  
“Of course.” Adam replied and followed Drake inside his home.


End file.
